


La Caballero

by DearLazerBunny



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Reader-Insert, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearLazerBunny/pseuds/DearLazerBunny
Summary: “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover





	1. Chapter 1

Everything was too bright. Too loud. The hustle and bustle made your mind spin, and made you want to run right back out the door to… somewhere else.

The thought kept you firmly planted in your spot. You had nowhere else to go.

No one noticed you, for a while, which was a blessing, because you could try and get your bearings in this unfamiliar place. It was so big. This whole city. And pieces kept coming back to you, driving you further and further to the edge of tears. What had you done. A gun, a trigger, a body. In that order.

Gun, trigger, body. You had finally snapped.

“Can I help you?” A man with slicked-back hair pulled you out of your nightmare. He was kind looking, but his very height made you want to shiver and back away, pleading guilt. 

“I…” You looked around, hands crossed over your chest like you were holding yourself together. “I need to speak with someone.”

A concerned look crossed his face. Too much like Avery. Too much, too much

“Not.. you.” You winced at what came out of your mouth, and the left side of your body flinched in anticipation of retribution. 

“Olivia.” The man immediately caught the attention of a brown-haired woman passing by with a steaming cup of something. “Got one for you.” He turned back to you. “This is our sergeant, Olivia Benson. She’s gonna take good care of you, okay?”

Wide eyed, you nodded. “Will you follow me, please?” the woman speaking now. She too looked concerned, holding out a hand in a gesture of ‘Come this way’. You took a step forward, then another, feeling the reluctance tug at your rigid body like a rubber band stretched too thin. Careful to never touch her waiting hand, you trailed her to a cozy looking room, despite the big table and utilitarian chairs. She closed the blinds and the door after setting her cup down and took a chair a few paces away from you.

“My name is Olivia Benson; I’m the sergeant of this unit. Is there anything I can get you? Water, something to eat?”

“No. Thank you.” Your brain was mush, and it took you a minute or so of staring into space to get your thoughts together. To her credit, Olivia simply sat, stirred her coffee, and waited, like this was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Is this the… the special victims? I heard- I heard that was… that you can protect people.”

“This is the special victims unit, yes.” The sergeant looked at you with kindness. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N. Y/L/N.” 

“Okay, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. Is there anything you’d like to talk about? Did something happen?”

“Yes.” You took a shaky breath, then reached into the tote bag you had been clutching to your side from the beginning. All the way here, two bus rides and a train, since you had googled a frightening set of words into your phone and Manhattan special victims had popped up on the return screen.

Slowly, carefully, a gun was pulled out of the bag and placed delicately on the table in between the two of you. “I think I did something bad.”

The detective kept a calm expression. “Okay, Y/N. It’s okay. If something bad happened, we will work with you, okay? But you need to tell me what happened.”

“I killed him.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, eyes fixed on the weapon in front of you. “I finally killed him.” It was a hollow victory. He had left nothing but a shell of a person, nothing but an empty soul that took no pleasure in doing what needed to be done. 

“Who is ‘him,’ Y/N?”

“My- boyfriend. Avery. Avery Firlie.” You glanced at her like a small child waiting to be hit. “I- I didn’t want him to be my boyfriend.”

“Okay, Y/N. It’s okay. I understand.” She grimaced. “I’m going to have to say your rights to you right now. It’s just protocol, it does not mean you’re in any sort of trouble-”

“No!” You got up so fast you almost knocked over your chair. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Y/N, this is just what needs to happen before we can help you-”

“NO!” Wildly, you ran for the door, trying the knob. It was locked. Trapped. Trapped again. Oh, god, what are you going to do- “He was a monster! I had to do it! It’s not my fault!”

“Y/N. Y/N! Please calm down-”

You grabbed the gun. It was the only thing you could think to do. You pointed it at the other woman, shakily, not quite centering on her. “I’m not the criminal. He was.”

Both her hands were in the air. Like you had done so many times before. “Y/N. No one is saying you are. But if we’re going to help you, I’m going to need you to give me the gun.”

“I-” you stared at the weapon in your hands like you were seeing in for the first time. Oh god. You were turning into him. He’d poisoned you. “Oh god. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

You did so, practically dropping it onto the wood. with a loud thud. Olivia pulled her shirt over her hand and picked it up by the barrel, placing it behind her. Tears had started pooling in your eyes and you shook your head, trying to dispel the nightmares. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sor-”

You fainted dead onto the floor, collapsing like it was the last thing you’d ever do.  
Olivia ran to the door and threw it open. “Someone call a bus!” She kneeled at your side, feeling your pulse flutter so faintly it was hard to tell if there was one at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

The hospital was crowded and bustling, but Olivia cut through the crowd in a black jacket like a pro, deftly weaving in between nurses to the information desk. 

She pulled her badge, flashing it briefly. “Hi, Sergeant Olivia Benson. I’m here for Y/N Y/L/N?” 

The nurse nodded solemnly and snagged a clipboard from the desk in front of her. “She’s in bad shape.” Leading her the detective through the hallway, she roughly flipped through the notes in front of her. “Dehydrated and malnourished, probably passed out from a combination of that and exhaustion. We put her on pain medication for the bruises. They cover nearly half her body.”

“Bruises?”

The nurse looked at her skeptically. “You’re SVU, right? Did you not see them?”

Your hospital room was dim, as you were still sleeping. The nurse gently pulled your arm out from under the blanket and let the hospital gown expose mottled bruises up and down the skin. She pointed to your left wrist, which was rubbed raw in a thin line. “She was definitely tied up for a long time. Similar marks on her ankles. There are bruises like these on her arms and torso. And finger marks around her neck.”

Olivia shook her head. “She came in with a sweatshirt tugged up around her neck. We didn’t see anything.” 

“Not to mention the makeup job.”

While the nurses where cleaning you up, they’d discovered thick foundation covering the left side of your face, hiding yet more multicolored bruises ranging from a plum purple to a sick green and yellow. “Clearly she’s pretty practiced at it.” The nurse replaced the covers and checked the IV bag hanging on the pole. “Someone’s been beating her for a long time.”

Olivia sighed. “Okay. Can I sit until she wakes up?”

“Sure, detective. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.”

The nurse aimed to leave, but paused at the door. “Do you want a rape kit ordered?”

She rubbed her hand over her face. “Most likely, when she wakes up. Put it on hold until then.”

A nod, and the door closed with a soft thud.   
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...........................................................................

  
When you woke, the detective was still there, sending emails on her phone in a chair pulled close to your bed. When you stirred, she looked up sharply, but softened into a look of compassion.

“Hey there. How are you feeling?”

“I- I’m not sure.”

“That’s perfectly okay, Y/N.” Olivia rested a hand on the edge of the mattress. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I… fainted.”

She nodded. “You know, Y/N, when the nurses examined you they found quite a bit of bruising. Do you mind telling me where those came from?”

You swallowed, hard, acutely aware of the sting of the IV filtering into the crook of your arm. “Avery did it.”

“Avery, he’s your boyfriend, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Um… a long time. I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay, Y/N. I need to know, do you remember what you told me when you came to the precinct?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me why you did it?”

“No. It’s too awful.”

“Okay. Okay, Y/N, I’m going to call the nurses back in and they’re going to catalogue your bruises and then do a rape kit.

Have you and Avery had sex in the past few days?”

You nodded.

“The kit will let us prove that Avery is the one that did this to you, okay? I’m going to step out now.”

You lay back down while Olivia waved the nurse over. “She’s awake. Do a full workup including the kit, please.” 

It took a surprisingly long time. They kept finding cuts you had forgotten were there, old scars you hadn’t remembered you’d gathered. They photographed all of them against a white background and the blue hospital gown, simultaneously caring and coldly professional. When they were done they allowed you a plain shirt and paper pants that you happily changed into, tugging the sleeves down to cover your purple arms and casting the hospital gown aside.

Olivia was outside phoning the office. “Carisi. Grab anything in the system for an Avery Firlie. And notify Barba, give him the details. This one’s going to be rough.”  
When they were done she came back in with a cup of coffee for you, which you gratefully accepted not to drink, but simply for the comfort of clutching something warm.

“They want to hold you a few days for observation, Y/N. Is there anyone I can notify for you?”

“No. It’s just me.”

“No family member, or a close friend? Maybe one you would have confided in in; someone who knew what you were going through?”

You did. Once. You smile bitterly at the detective. “I did when I was younger, yes.”

“Is there any way we could get in contact with them? Sometimes an outside perspective is very helpful in the investigation.”

Rafael. You wanted so badly to say it. All those years of wondering, wishing, waiting for a ghost that never came home. And he never would now, that was clear. Let the police find him. Let them track him down across the country in some big shot law firm with a supermodel wife and three prodigy kids. Let them call him up and say your name only to hear a rush of static and a polite ‘who?’

No. You had bigger things to worry about now, with mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Better to leave the past where it lies. Even if you had to carry it on your shoulders everywhere you went.

“No. He’s gone now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

When you met him, he’d been working as a Spanish tutor.

While you did need a little help in Spanish, you mostly decided to go because Avery had insisted on walking you home from school every single day and really, Avery was nice, but you weren’t interested. But Avery wasn’t the type of guy to take no for an answer. So you’d blurted out something about tutoring and sheepishly made your way to the local library, where college students did free tutoring in their spare time as extra credit.

You were a senior in high school, it wasn’t like they were that much older than you, but they were still intimidating- so much prettier, and they all looked like they had their life together. And they were smart enough to tutor the dumb kids like you.  
You wrote your name down for Spanish and took a comfy seat, backpack at your feet, you pulled out your binder and slowly pushed through your homework as best you could. Last year’s teacher had insisted you were ready for Spanish III but that was obviously proving a miscalculation.

“Y/N… Y/L/N?” 

You looked up into the eyes of the most gorgeous guy you’d ever seen in your entire life. Movies, TV, Hollywood included, they didn’t hold a candle to this guy. Green eyes and dark brown hair swept to one side that was just begging you to run your fingers through it. 

“Are you Y/N?”

“What? Yes! Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly. “Just… trying to get my mind out of my textbook. Are.. you the Spanish tutor?”

“Rafael Barba, at your service.” He held out a hand and you shook it, amused at the college guy dressed in pants and a collared shirt when the rest of his classmates were in sweats. Still, it worked for him. “Shall we?”

The two of you hunkered down in a back table, where his things were already spread out, covering half the work area. Textbooks upon textbooks, papers everywhere, a notebook full of a surprisingly neat scrawl. You glanced at the cover of one of the textbooks. “Pre-law? Are you sure you’re the Spanish teacher?”

“Sí, estoy absolutamente seguro de que soy el profesor de español.”

“Well, I understood the yes, so…”

He snorted, and you couldn’t help but be taken by the sarcastic half smile that spread over his face. “Wonderful, I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly.”

You nervously handed over your worksheet, and he took up a red pen, scanning the paper with a practiced eye. You tried not to jiggle your leg under the table. You really didn’t want to look stupid in front of this guy.

His eyebrows creased together. “This is… fine.”

“What?”

He looked up at you, clearly confused. “There’s barely anything wrong with this. You mixed up a few tenses here and there, but otherwise… it’s pretty perfect. Why’d you think you needed tutoring?”

“Um… I guess I’m not really comfortable with it?”

“Coulda fooled me. And?”

“A- and?”

“Come on, theres clearly something else bugging you. Out with it.”

“You’re studying law, not therapy.”

He smiled at that. “Lawyers often have to be therapists. Also, you signed up for an hour slot and this will take five minutes, if that, to correct. So.”

Point taken. “Well, there’s this guy. He keeps following me home. He says he’s walking me home but I never asked him to do that, and I already told him I’m not interested…” you bit your lip nervously. Just thinking about it was stressing you out.

“Tell him to fuck off!”

“First of all, no,” You laughed at his adamant expression. “Secondly, He’s like three times my size.”

“Well that’s annoying.”

“Tell me about it.” You rolled your eyes, then read over the few red x’s Rafael had put on your paper. “Plus my dad is always on my case, so anything that gets me out of the house…”

“I understand.”

And funnily enough, you really felt you did.

You chatted for the rest of the hour, learning that he was a native Spanish speaker so tutoring was a no-brainer to put on his college applications. He’d rattled off a slew of names when you asked where he was considering applying, and you didn’t know anything about any of them other than they were big names and had fancy programs. He asked you about your plans and you told him about doing community for a few years before switching to the state university-

“Rafael?” you both looked up to see a freshman looking at the two of you quizzically. “It’s five o’clock, are you ready for me?”

“Sam! Yes, we were just finishing up.” He turned to you. “I’ll see you again if you have any problems, yes?”

“Definitely.” You gathered your stuff and headed out, pausing to give him a small wave as you exited the front doors. The fact that he waved back definitely did not make you grin like an idiot.

‘Problems’ ended up being just about anything the class could throw at you. You found yourself slacking on homework just so you could do it with Rafael sitting across the table from you, bantering with him as you filled in miles of adverbs and useless nouns. Monday through Thursday, four o’clock, you were there at the library, too smitten to even care if you looked obvious. But honestly, Rafael didn’t seem to mind so much. He always seemed happy to see you, and almost always gave you a smile. And you always smiled back.

So when he showed up in front of your school about three months after your first meeting on a Friday afternoon, you were very confused.

“Rafael?” He shrugged at you for you to come over and talk and you walked over to him, hiking your backpack up further onto your shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“So, don’t think I’m being creepy or anything…. But you mentioned that Avery kid was still messing with you.”

“Y/N!”

“Speak of the devil,” you muttered, trying to put on your best please-go-away face as you saw a tall blonde head bobbing his way through the crowd. “Hi, Avery.”

Avery was out of breath, cheeks blazing, but he still gave you a mega-watt smile. “Hi, Y/N. You ready to walk home today?”

“Um…”

It was then he seemed to notice Rafael, who was eyeing him cooly from the other side of you. “Oh, sorry, Avery, this is Rafael, my… friend. Rafael, this is Avery.”

The blonde was immediately on edge, a dramatic switch from his usual happy demeanor. “Nice to meet you. Y/N, lets go.”

“Actually, I’m here to walk Y/N home today.” You quirked an eyebrow at the tutor and he shrugged like just go with it. “I’m sure you understand.”

“I don’t think I do-“

Rafael was holding out his hand for- something. You widened you eyes like what the heck are you doing?

He laughed, which was still the cutest thing on the planet. “Give me your backpack, babe. It’s not like I’m gonna make you carry it yourself.”

Babe? Wordlessly, you handed it over, and he slung it onto his back. “So, I’m sure Y/N will be seeing you on Monday. Nice meeting you!”

He turned on his heel and walked off, and it only took you a second to realise you were supposed to follow him, leaving Avery completely in the dust. “Oh my god,” you giggled once you both had rounded the corner. “That was amazing!”

He shrugged again, but now he had that characteristic grin on. “Classic move. If he thinks you’re taken, he might back off. Rude that he won’t take you at your word, but…”

Oh, to be taken by Rafael. You hoped you weren’t blushing.

“Well, thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course, mi amor,” he said teasingly. “Now, lead the way.”

Okay, now you were definitely blushing.

“Wait, you live over here?”

You squinted at the surrounding trees and houses. “Unless I’ve gone blind in the past ten minutes, ya. My house is right there.” You pointed to a red trimmed brick house at the end of the block.

“Okay, now I definitely feel creepy.” You looked at him. “I live right there.”

The house across the street and about five houses down was a modest two story with candles in every window.

“Well damn.” You looked at your street like you were seeing it for the first time. “Hey, neighbor.”

“I think you mean vecino.”

“No, I don’t, because it’s Friday and my day off.”

He laughed and handed you your backpack. “Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Sure. Mi caballero,” you teased back. “See you then.”

You turned and headed into the house, not seeing the faint blush spreading across Rafael’s cheeks.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

“Avery Firlie, fourty-two, recently found dead via gunshot wound to the chest in a nearby suburb. It looks like the place is a rental, there wasn’t much there. But we found ties on the bed in the master, as well as other implements apparently used on Ms. Y/L/N. His fingerprints are a match on all of them; her DNA is on the ties and the receiving end of the tools, but never the handles.”

“Thank you, Amanda.” Olivia sat back in her chair, “So, we’ve got a textbook battered woman case.”

“Courts aren’t going to be in favor of her.” Carisi leaned on the edge of his desk, sipping a mug of coffee. “Past ten cases of domestic violence resulting in death of the abuser has led to a guilty sentence for the woman. And that’s just here in New York.”

“Which is why we have Barba.”

“Of course that’s why you have me.” DA Rafael Barba swept into the room in his customary manner: I am here to solve the issue, never fear, frightened detectives. It was annoyingly endearing, in a way. Not that SVU had a choice in keeping him around. “So, woman gets beat, woman shoots man, and now we’ve got a potential murder on our hands..?”

“Well, she didn’t just get beat once. We’ve got hospital records dating back over a decade for her. Bruises, broken bones, a couple concussions. Guy was rough on her.” Amanda looked a bit sick as she paged through the file.

“What’d she shoot him with?”

“9mm Glock, registered to Firlie.”

“So, could have been premeditated? Did she know he had a gun?”

“I saw the look on this woman’s face, theres no way this was premeditated. She came in and admitted she shot the man. She was in shock, she could barely speak.”

“Wouldn’t talk to me,” Carisi interjected. “Firlie is a tall man with blonde hair; I might have looked too much like him for her to be comfortable with me. Typical battered woman.”

“All this sounds like speculation, where’s the victim? Have you talked to her?”

“The hospital is keeping her for observation. And yes, but we haven’t got much out of her. She’s cooperating, but she’s shellshocked. It might be a while before we get any details.”

“Well tell her she hasn’t got a while, his murder is already being processed. Yes, I looked into it, thank me later,” Barba quipped, looking at the sergeant with a raised eyebrow. “Homicide is moving a lot faster than her, so I suggest she gets her act together so we can build an actual case.”

“Precedent says-”

“Thank you, Fordham, I’ll take it from here.” Barba looked around the room. “Get her talking, fast. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………................................................................................

“Hey, Y/N. This is Detective Rollins. The nurses said you’ve been feeling better?”

You nodded, taking another tiny bite of the plate that had been placed in front of you. “The food really helps. And they’ve given me something for the pain while the bruises heal.”

“That’s really good, Y/N. I’m Amanda, it’s nice to meet you.” The blonde held out a hand and you shook it weakly.

“Y/N, if it’s alright with you, Amanda and I would like to go over some details of what happened to you, okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I understand, but the problem is, Y/N, we can’t put together a case to help you unless you give us your side of the story.”

Oh. You should have expected that, honestly, when you dropped a murder weapon in front of a policeman. “O-okay. What do you need to know?”

“When did you and Avery first meet?”

“High school… he had a crush on me, but I wasn’t interested. But he followed me home from school all the time, told me he was ‘walking me home’, even when… well, it was clear I liked someone else.” Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it. “Then a very close friend of mine moved away… suddenly. And Avery was there when Rafi wasn’t.” You shrugged, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your voice. “I was lonely. And he was kind, at first, not like- what he is now.”

“Do you mind giving us a full name for your friend, Y/N? If we could get in contact with him it may really help our case.”

_No. No you can’t, I buried his name a long time ago._ “His name- was Rafael. Rafael Barba.” You looked down at your hands clutching the sheets of your bed. “He was a college student, and a neighbor. We were… friends.”

The two detectives exchanged a look that you caught. You weren’t stupid. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, Y/N. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just need to step out and make a phone call.” Olivia stood. “Amanda will stay with you and keep talking with you, okay?”

Once she safely had a few hallways’ distance between your room and herself, Olivia whipped out her phone, staring at the contact name she had pulled up. Rafael Barba. It could be a coincidence. Probably was. After all, Barba would’ve recognized the client’s name, right?”

“Olivia, what do you need? I’m waiting for a jury.”

“Have you looked at the victim’s name in the Avery Firlie case?”

“Um…” She could hear the lawyer pulling up notes on his screen. “Y/N? Y/N something? Honestly, Olivia, does it matter?”

“It’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

There was a pause.

“I- excuse me.?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. That’s her name. And she says she knew a Rafael Barba when she was in high school and he college. They were friends. So I was just wondering…”

“She said that.”

“Yes. Is there another Rafael Barba out there? Or is that you?”

The phone went dead on the end of the line.

“Barba? Hello?”   
………………………………………………………………………………………………….............................................................................  
Y/N. No. It couldn’t be.

He waited all throughout the sentencing, then practically flew back to his office, locking the door behind him and pulling out your file. He hadn’t taken a close look at it yet. There were photos of you, from the hospital, and he stared at bruised arms and raw wrists. And your face. You had a black eye, and red rings around your neck, but…

_Oh, god. Y/N. What happened to you._

Avery…

Avery Firlie. The creep from high school that had plagued you for years. A semi-recent mugshot showed him scruffier and heavier, but something about him was distinctive enough to make the lawyer fumble for his chair.

_Oh, god. Y/N._

_I am so sorry._

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

You remembered the first time you called him Rafi exquisitely clearly.

Your Spanish teacher had assigned a big end of year project before the semester was over, so now you sat with Rafael until it was dark and the library closed, pouring over every detail of your paper in excruciating fashion. Rafael was a tough critic- always telling you to be more concise, clear up some meaning here and there, make the word better fit the form and function here. By the time you wrapped up, the librarians were readying to leave, quietly but efficiently ushering you out the door.

“Well, I guess that’s it for the night,” you laughed as the librarian on duty eagerly flipped the open sign to closed. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Hey, Y/N, let me drive you home, okay?”

You frowned. “It’s a pretty short walk from here, I should be fine.”

“Oh I know! It’s just… my mother would kill me if I didn’t. And we’re going the same way anyways...”

“Well, as long as it’s to save your soul,” you teased, aiming in the direction of the parking lot.

The two of you cruised down the road, blasting music that the both of you surprisingly liked, singing along as he turned in the darkness towards home. It was raining, and the warm yellow streetlights created a soft atmosphere perfect for dreaming. Which you were definitely doing right then and there, pretending that the guy next to you wasn’t just your math tutor, and he gave you rides home all the time because duh, that’s what boyfriends do. 

As you pulled into your driveway, neither of you made a move to leave. You sat with the rain pounding the roof and flooding the windshield, mouthing the words to a great song and just… enjoying. That the other person was there, with you, protecting you from the storm overhead.

Finally the music ended and you sighed, pulling your backpack and reality back to you. :thanks for the ride, Raphael. I’ll let you know how the presentation goes.”

“Rafi.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“My friends- call me Rafi.” He looked a little embarrassed over this declaration, so much so that you momentarily lost your head and leaned over to peck the side of his pink cheek. 

“Okay, Rafi. Thanks for the ride.” Before either of you could say anything else you. Made a mad dash for the house, shutting the door behind you with a loud bang.

 _Oh god, what had you just done_?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

“This is a bad idea.”

Olivia shook her head. “I know. But Barba was adamant; don’t tell her. He thinks she won’t recognize him.”

“Please, the way she talked about him? She’ll remember.”

“Thank you, Rollins. Will you go make sure Y/N is ready?”  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………................................................................................….

“Okay, Y/N, this is going to be fairly simple. Our DA is going to stand with you here and ask you questions like he would during the actual trial. It might be hard to answer his questions, but we’re going to be sitting right over here, so just look at us if you need help, okay?”

“He might also cross-examine you,” Amanda piped in, returning from the lobby with a tray of steaming cups of coffee. “That’s when-”

“The prosecution asks the witness questions in order to bring doubt upon the witness’ testimony in front of the jury.” You smile thinly in thanks as a coffee is handed to you. “Best friend wanted to be a lawyer.” _I’m sure he made it, too.._

“I think you may have mentioned that.” Rollins gave Olivia a look then went to sit in the gallery, tapping away at an email on her phone. 

“Okay, Y/N, he’s just running a little late. You can breathe for a minute.”

You nodded, sitting back in the hard wooden chair, hands around the to-go cup. The courthouse was huge and imposing, with marble floors and rows and rows of seats, but the detectives looked practically at home in the airy room. You were shrunk into a seat in the very front, still shivering despite a layer of clothes.

Then the massive wooden doors opened at the head of the room and a man who you assumed must be the lawyer made his way towards your trio. His grey suit was pressed sharply and his accessories all matched, topping it off with a bag that probably cost more than your entire house. He was brisk and no-nonsense walking up the aisle, giving Olivia and Amanda a curt nod before setting his briefcase on the table and ruffling through some papers. There was something about him….

He was a dead ringer for Rafi.

That was it. Lengthen the hair and get rid of the admittedly attractive salt-and-pepper, put him in less expensive clothes or a Harvard hoodie… he might as well be his father. Or his twin.

“Olivia. Any updates?”

And his voice, it was like he pulled it straight out of your head.

Imagine that. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” You glanced up, caught in reminiscing. The lawyer gave you a thin smile. “I’ll be your representation for this trial. We’ll go over the basics for the jury and then get into… the heavier stuff. I’m sure Detective Benson explained it all to you on the way here.”

You nodded briefly, still mesmerized by the mirror that was being held up to your memory. 

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t believe you told me your name..?”

Olivia and Amanda looked at each other, and the lawyer looked at you. Those green eyes were almost… pleading. Asking you something that was on the very tip of your tongue. 

No, It couldn’t be.

He approached, but stayed a few paces away. Opened his mouth to speak, then closed it agin, like he was trying to find the right words to say. “Rafael Barba, a su servicio.”

Rafael Barba, at your service. A younger voice echoed the man in front of you like a perfect harmony. 

Rafael Barba.

_Rafi..?_

“Is.. this a joke?” You tore your eyes away from the man in front of you to look confusedly at the detectives, whose mouths might have well been on the floor. “Because it’s not very funny.”

“Y/N…”

“Are you-” You stopped. Tried again. “Rafael?”

He grinned. “Surprised?”

You wanted to punch that smug grin off his face. Which you did, winding up a right hook like it was your job and letting it pop him in the nose. He staggered back, clearly surprised, and you saw red bleeding from between his fingertips. 

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You shrieked at him, trying to contain the sudden sadness washing over you. “Surprised? Do I look surprised?”

“I thought you might be happy to see me.”

“I would’ve been happy to see you ten years ago, when I actually needed you.” The derision dripping off your voice surprised you, but the tears did not. So many damn tears spilled over this man. So many.

“Okay, why don’t we-”

“No, Olivia, it’s okay.” Rafael turned back to you, almost desperately. “Y/N, I didn’t know. About any of this. If I had-”

“If you had, you’d have done the same thing you actually did. Which was nothing.” Without another word, you stood from your seat and walked out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: May or may not have been inspired by S3E1 of Sherlock...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

Rafi’s going away party was the be-all-end-all of the school year.

His mom let him have the house and invite as many friends as he wanted. Music was pumping, pizza boxes and beer from the grocery store down the street were plentiful, and everyone and their friends were here, bursting the house at the seams.

You wandered from room to room, drink in your hand (shhh…. Don’t tell) joining various conversations at any given point. It had been over a year since you and Rafi had met, meaning you knew pretty much all his friends. They liked to tease that the two of you were joined at the hip, and called you his “hermanita,” which you tried not to let get to you too much. Rafi always called you mi amor- a running gag between the two of you by now- and a part of you had always hoped he meant it in a deeper way. 

You aimed for the kitchen, grabbing a handful of pretzels and a cookie iced with the logo for Harvard Law- his mom’s handiwork. Just as you were going to. Pop it in your mouth someone bumped into you from behind.

“Rafi!” You squealed, trying to keep his drink from spilling all over you. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry!” He yelled over the music and grinned back. “Having a good time?”

“Um, yes.” You giggled. “I may or may not have had too much to drink.”

Raising an eyebrow, he grabbed your cup out of your hand to your squealed protests and sniffed it. “Are you drinking?”

You gave him your best tease look. The alcohol was giving you a little more confidence than normal. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Rafi rolled his eyes with a good natured smile on his face, then grabbed your hand. “Come on, let’s dance!” You abandoned your drink as he led you out onto the floor, music thumping so loud you could feel it like a second heartbeat.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………….....................................................................

  
When the early morning hit, people began to bail out, walking home holding onto friends’ arms for support or teetering off in high heels to the next party. You stayed behind, laying on the sofa in the living room watching a movie someone had put on, destroying a leftover box of pizza as impromptu breakfast, and to hopefully get the tipsy feeling out of your head before you went home to your dad. 

Rafael came in with a yawn, hair spiked with sweat from the dance floor. He had changed into Harvard sweats rather than his party outfit, and he crashed next to you, snagging a piece of pizza from the box. You laughed and swatted his hand away.

“Stop it. Mine!”

“God, you’re such a lightweight,” he teased, successfully maneuvering around your attempts to keep his hands off the box. “How much did you even drink?”

“Uuuuuuum…” 

He laughed so brightly you thought the sun was coming up early. “Fair point. Just don’t let your dad catch you.”

“About that, can I spend the night? I don’t want him…” You giggled ridiculously at the thought of your dad finding you hungover. “That would be bad.”

“That would be bad,” Rafi confirmed. “Sure, I can take the couch.”

“No, I’m not going to steal your bed! Just lend me a t-shirt and I’ll be fine.”

“Well, you know where they are.”

You held onto the wall as you made your way to his bedroom, fumbling around in his closet and eventually decided on a sweatshirt that was way too big for you, but perfect for cuddling up in. Next thing you knew you were face planted on his bed, trying not to fall asleep . He came in and found you trying to untie your shoes with little success.

“Need some help?” He grinned and began to undo the buckles of your heels.

“Ah, mi caballero to the rescue once again,” you crowed, trying to get a rise out of him. He just rolled his eyes and set the shoes on the floor next to the bed. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

“Wait! Rafi!” He paused. You patted the bed next to you. “Come sit with me.”

He hesitated, then carefully lay down next to you, so close your noses were almost touching. You sighed, happy to be close.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rafi whispered through the darkness.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s a big bed.”

“Because…” You felt him turn over onto his back and scrub a hand through his hair. “You know how I feel about you.” 

You snorted. “Yeah. The hermanita. I got the picture.” You tried not to let the disappointment bleed through into your voice as you sighed, rolling away from your best friend so he was looking at your back. “I’m going to miss you. When you’re gone.”

There was a definite lump in your throat.

“You really think that’s what I think of you?”

You thought back over all the study sessions, the rides home, the walks that went long past your neighborhood simply because you didn’t want the conversation to end. The smile that spread over his face when you showed up at the door, or whispered a secret in the dark, or buttoned one he forgot on his shirt. Your thrill when he spoke, or when his hand casually brushed yours when correcting a paper, knees bumping over the paper.

But that couldn’t mean anything. 

Could it?

“Yeah. I get it Rafi. I never had a chance.”

“You never…”

He fell silent for a long time, and you began to drift off under the alcohol and the weight of Rafi’s sweatshirt. 

“I never thought of you like that.”

“I know, Rafael.”

“No. Like this.” You turned around with a raised eyebrow, confused, until he took your face in his hands and kissed you, pressing a sweet peck to your lips as tenderly as if you might break. Then pulled away, forehead creased, as if some version of you in a distant parallel universe wouldn’t want to kiss him.

So you kissed him back.

And he kissed you back. But harder this time.

A push and pull, take and give, a year of unspoken tension released in a single fluid motion. You were both desperate and out of breath but unwilling to break, drinking in each other’s air like it was water. Your hands were behind his neck but he seemed hesitant to touch you, so you simply took his hand and guided it to your waist. He immediately spread his palms and pulled you closer, making you flush with want.

When you finally came up for air both your cheeks were pink and the tension in the little room was heady. “That’s how I think of you,” he whispered, so softly you thought you might be imagining it. 

You didn’t answer. You just kissed him again, holding on tightly so he wouldn’t ever get away.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

That was, to your surprise, the last time you ever saw him. Too embarrassed to say something about what had happened the night of the party, you avoided Raphael like the plague. But a week later, he was off to college. You watched the caravan leave from your bedroom window, toying with his number that was keyed into your phone. You thought about texting him good luck or just hey but something always stopped you, your phone locking itself before you could type a single word. 

It didn’t mean anything, you thought. He was drunk, you were drunk. Not exactly the best time to judge wants and needs.

But you thought at least you’d have time to talk again before he left. 

Then a month passed, and another, and another, and you began to realize you weren’t going to talk to him ever again. He didn’t call, or text, or even email. You told yourself he was off at college doing big new things, and soon you’d be doing the same, but you couldn’t exactly help how lonely it made you feel.

You were sitting on an empty swing set at a local park, absently watching the sunset, when you heard footsteps crunch behind you. 

“This seat taken?”

You sighed. Avery.

“Nope, go ahead.” He took the swing next to you and played with the chain strap. 

“Heard Barba left town.”

You nodded. “Yup.”

“Did y’all stay together or…?”

You eyed him. “We were never together in the first place.”

“Oh.” He seemed way too happy about that. “You here alone then?”

You nodded again.

“Mind if I… walk you home?”

You looked up at the rapidly clouding sky, wishing but knowing full well Rafi wouldn’t be here to walk you to your door tonight.

“Sure, Avery. That’s sweet of you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

“So he was kind to you back then?” Barba stood a few paces away from you, addressing the courtroom more than yourself.

“Yes.”

A few people in the jury looked interested at least. You searched for Olivia’s face in the crowded courtroom, and she nodded at you to continue. 

“He was very…. Attentive. Always asking about me, wanting to go with me, bringing me gifts. It was… nice.”

“And when did this start to go downhill?”

“About a year in. He was demanding to know where I’d been; who I was with. Or saying he had to come with me, for my own sake. I barely ever had a moment alone except when he was at work.”

“Did you not have a job of your own?”

“…no. Avery said he didn’t want me to have one. It would take time away from him.”

“What about friends or family?”

You stared at him. _The nerve_. “I don’t have much family anymore, and friends were scarce. If Avery didn’t like them they weren’t my friends.”

“I see. Did you not have contact with them at all? No emails, or text messages; calls?”

“Not really.” You swallowed, unable to look at him. “I’m sure I didn’t have much to begin with, but I caught him going through my phone once…”

Barba looked at you sharply for a moment, and you wondered if you had said something wrong. But he simply looked away and crossed the room, resting a hand on the bar that separated the jury from the rest of the room.

“Now, Miss Y/L/N, will you please detail some of the physical abuse you encountered?”

You took a breath. “He liked it rough. Very rough. And I didn’t really, but he wouldn’t stop it. Said it was the only thing that made him happy. And then he would start doing it other times. During the day, he would just… slap me. Because I didn’t do the dishes, or was watching the wrong show on TV. And then he’d apologise, and do it all over again.”

“What happened the night Avery was killed?”

“He had taken me on a trip. He did that sometimes, when his job was too stressful. But he brought his bag. It was full of… whips and chains and things like that. He tied me up to the bed and... did what he wanted. Then he left me there for a few days, I think. I watched the sun through the window to keep time.”

Barba tried to keep his horror from showing to the rest of the room but it was proving damn difficult. He kept superimposing the Y/N he knew over this shattered woman and was coming up with nothing but blame for himself. 

“Eventually he let one hand free, because he wanted me to- do him. But I used it to untie myself while he was asleep in the other room and managed to get the gun out of the bag.”

“He kept a gun in there.”

“Yes. Sometimes he liked to wave it around or put it up against me when we were having sex.”

“So you went into the other room and shot him.”

“I- woke him up first.”

“Why did you do that?”

“So he could see me do it. I wanted him to know- he hadn’t beat me.” The tears in your eyes seemed to belie your statement but you didn’t care. You were sick of apologizing. 

“Just a few more questions, Miss Y/L/N, I promise. Now, why not leave him? By your account this abuse went on for over a decade.”

 _How fucking dare you._ “Where was I supposed to go? I had no family. Our town was small, he would have found me in an instant.”

“No friends?”

“No. My friends? Abandoned me. They left for better things and never came back for me. Avery, as disgusting as he was, was all I had.” And you know that better than anyone.

“Surely your friends tried to reach out to you.” There was a pleading look on his face, but you weren’t going to be so easily charmed.

“Never. And if they had, I would have told them to go to hell where they belonged.” More tears. You were surprised you had any left in your body. 

“Objection!” The opposition stood from the other side of the room. “Relevance?”

“Granted.”

Rafael was staring at you, silent, like he had forgotten where he was. That he had a show to put on. “No further questions, your honor.” 

“Miss Y/L/N, you may step down.”

As you sat, you could see his hands in his lap clawing at themselves, an old nervous tick you remembered he did whenever he had a test or an essay due. But this was more desperate, with fingernails grinding themselves into the skin and leaving bright red crescent moons in their wake.

You squashed the urge to reach over and hold his hand to keep him from hurting himself like you had done so many times before. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

The knock on the door surprised you.

Groggily, you reached for you phone across the bed and tap the screen. 2:45 am. Who the hell is knocking at 2:45 am?

Fear sweeps through your body, freezing you under your crumpled bedsheets. _It’s him, your mind screams. Run. Now._

No, you tell yourself. Avery is gone. He can't knock on your door anymore, or crawl through your window, or breathe his filth on your shoulder as he climbs on top of you _Easy now. Breathe._ He can't hurt you anymore. Can not hurt you anymore. Save the nightmares that leave you tasting salt and clawing at your own skin, desperately trying to rid yourself of anything he ever touched _Breathe. You're okay._

_Knock knock… knock knock knock… knock_

Instantly, you're transported back to your small childhood bedroom- branches scraping your window, rain pounding the tin house, hiding under your blanket from the thunder crashing above your head. And then, salvation: a skinny, reckless idiot rapping loudly on the glass outside, the special knock you two developed one rainy day when you confessed that bad weather always made you nervous. And the day he promised to never let you face another storm alone.

You wondered if it was a coincidence that there was a light drizzle tapping at your window as you unconsciously scrambled for the door, route instinct that had never quite dissipated.

“Y/N.”

He was in a suit, and a raincoat that probably cost more than you'd ever made in a year. Expensive shoes, silk tie. A stranger.

But with his wet, messy hair dripping into those green eyes, you could almost pretend he was the boy you used to know, just trying to protect you from the lightning.

“Mr. Barbra.” 

That hurt him, you could tell. There was a tiny flinch, a little shadow crossed over his face. That stone face. Once, able to fool you into thinking you were the world. Now, to charm the whole of New York with a smirk, a flick of the eyebrow. But you're immune. You know all the tricks, now.

“May I come in?”

Um. “I don't know.”

So he stood there, waiting. Cold and miserable, he let you wrestle with your broken heart and stand there. Then, to stand aside, just a little, and open the door wider.

The sight of him standing amongst your trashed hidey-hole was almost too much to bear. A sudden urge to apologize, sweep the dirty clothes under the rug, gather up the empty cups, washes over you. 

No. I don't owe him anything.

Carefully, he sat on the edge of the couch, precisely placing his briefcase at his feet. You watched him, back against the door, letting the cold wood cut some clarity into your mind. 

Now what?

You waited for him to speak, but he seemed content with just looking at you. A soft, almost fond gaze over your face, splotchy from crying. Your hair, still in a towel- oh. Towel. _Clearly firing on all cylinders tonight, Y/N._ Shaking, but trying to hide it, you roughly pull the towel off of your head and toss it at him-but he doesn't catch it, seemingly as frozen as you are, and it lands over his head instead. A Barba-shaped coat rack, perched on the edge of your ratty sofa. The look on his face as he pulled it off, making his hair stick up in wet spikes, was so pensive and insulted you couldn’t help but laugh, a giggle rolling out from somewhere you didn't know you had anymore. He smiled, stone melting into something more familiar, something comforting.

Just like that, it was you and Rafi again, for a single, precious moment.

He cleared his throat, pulling you back from the past. “How are you?”

How am I? “How am I?” You laugh, only a touch hysterically, and shake your head. “Well, hm, let’s see- traumatized, broken, probably crazy. How do you think I am, Raphael?”

“You're not broken.” 

You snort, and run a hand through your hair. “Sure, whatever you say.”

You were braced for a look of disappointment, pity, that didn't come. Instead, he reaches down and pulls a file from his briefcase. “I brought the final details from the courtroom. The conviction, the sentencing. Olivia thought it might… help. Closure, etcetera.” He paused. “You’re officially a free woman.”

“And they sent you to deliver it? Really.”

“I may have stolen it from Carisi,” he admitted, not looking the least big guilty. 

“Awesome, thank you so much.” You rip the file from his hand, careful not to graze his fingers. “You can go now.” _You’re taking up all the air in the room and I can't seem to breathe._

He doesn't stand. “I have something else to say.”

Huff. “Fine. What.”

“I…” The infamous Barba, at a loss for words? This’ll be good. “I'm sorry.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm sorry, Y/N.”

Oh. My god. “You're sorry? You leave me alone in that hellhole of a town to fend for myself and now you're sorry? It’s a little late for that.” The tears fall. Damnit, I don't want him to see me cry. Not again.”Leave. Just… go.”

“No-“

“No. You don't get to say no. You left me. One minute I'm hugging you goodbye and the next there's nothing. No phone calls. No emails. You couldn't even bring yourself to write. And I get it, I really do-“ you stop, trying to gasp in enough air through your tears to get the words out. “Big shot Harvard golden boy, talking to some pathetic shriveled violet back home in nowhere, USA. No. You couldn't do that. But at least- at least give me the dignity of knowing you're cutting me off.” 

He had the dignity to look shocked, at least. That was probably the most words you’d said directly to him this entire time. “I did write to you. Every week. And phone. But you never picked up.”

“You-” What?

You shook your head, unbelieving. “I never got any letters. Never. And I looked.”

“A lot of them were marked return to sender.” He hesitates for a moment, then reaches inside his coat to pull out… an envelope. Yellowed a little, from years of age, and a familiar scrawl on the outside you still can’t help but recognize. 

A vibrant image of Avery digging through the mail and viciously ripping one out of the stack bursts into your mind. You fumble for the couch, grabbing the arm, and sit, clutching it for all you’re worth. “Oh god. Avery…”  
“Stole your mail,” he confirmed, with sympathy on his face. “I put it together while you were on the stand.”

“And the phone… and the computer…”

“Tapped, bugged. He probably had multiple people blocked from anything you could access.”

Oh my god. Even when he’s dead, he still ruins your life. 

“Raphael.”

“I was heartbroken, to say the least.” His smile was bitter and self-deprecating but the honestly behind the words smacked you in the face. “I never stopped trying. Somewhere there’s a box of letters that all got returned I never had the heart to throw away. I thought maybe someday I’d be able to give them to you in person.”

He… “Heartbroken?”

“Yes. Mi amor.”

My love. He said it the same way he did decades ago. You shake your head. “I’m not your love anymore. I’m-” you are not going to cry. _Not. Going. To. Cry_. “I’m not the same. He ruined me.”

“Aren’t you?” He comes and sits down on the couch next to you, dangerously close, even if he’s a foot away. “Because that fire I saw, in the courtroom? That was you. And you laughing at Carisi and Amanda bickering, that’s you.” His hand reached out an inch, hovering, like it was waiting for an invitation. “When you smiled… that was you, Y/N. He didn’t ruin you. He hurt you. If he wasn’t already dead I’d kill him with my bare hands.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and he smiled. “But underneath all that, you got away. Y/N is still in there. And no, I never got over you.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.”

You shifted forwards, just a hair, and let him lay his hand on the back of your neck, warm and comforting. A thumb ran up and down your hairline and you tried to say you had forgotten how good that felt but the truth was you hadn’t forgotten at all.

“I’m sorry, Rafi.” Your voice was hoarse.

“Not as sorry as I am.” His words were as rough as your own. “If I had been there- this never would have happened.”

“Rafi-”

“No, I’m serious, Y/N.” He looked at you with that same gaze that made your heart melt all those years ago. “You were right. If I had been there, none of this ever would have happened. I should have came back, I should have checked on you-” he paused, finally breaking his gaze and looking at the floor. “I’m never going to forgive myself for this.”

He was still hesitating. Not wanting to hurt you any more than you already were. The thoughtfulness was overwhelming- something you hadn’t seen in a long time. So you very, very carefully, placed an arm around his neck and pulled him in, settling your head down on his shoulder, trying not to think about how he smelled exactly the same. His hands ended up loosely wrapped around your waist, mindful of the bruises he knew still wound around your body.

“Still my caballero, after all this time.” You felt his smile on your own shoulder.

The two of you sat like that for a long time.

 


	11. Epilogue: One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Knight”: After decades apart, you appear as a victim in SVU’s protection to be defended by DA Barba, your former best friend and one-time lover

“Hi, Marissa.” You smiled at Rafi’s secretary, manning the front of the office like she was running a naval battalion. You gestured with the cup of coffee in your right hand. “Is he in?”

She nodded, returning a professional smile. “Perfect timing, he’s on his break.”

You knew that, of course. You had kinda-sorta-maybe memorized his schedule a while back. Just so you could do little things like surprise him with his favorite coffee in the middle of the day.

You knocked on the door. “Rafi? It’s me.”

He was on the phone, feet propped up on his massive wooden desk, but he grinned when he saw you, motioning for you to come in. His smile still gave you butterflies, damn him. The bottom-hollowed-out, ridiculously addictive feeling that leaves you giddy and makes you wonder what his lips would feel like fluttering against the side of your neck, arms around your waist, pulling you in closer…

Luckily, you’d felt that quite a few times since that night a year ago.

He mouthed _Sorry_ at you as the person on the other end of the line chartered incessantly, but you never minded. You admitted the view from one of the big picture windows on the wall and enjoyed the sound of his casual banter filling the warm space. It was all dark wood and big, old books, and it might as well have been Rafi if he’d been a room.

“Hey!” He finally hung up, resting the receiver in its cradle. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You laughed and sauntered over, presenting him with the to-go cup with two hands. “Your chalice, sir,” you giggled, enjoying the mirth filtering through his eyes.

“Why thank you milady.” He took a sip. “And you always remember the right order.”

You shrug. “It’s a gift.”

“C’mere you.” He pulls you in carefully, slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you want to. But today is a good day and you let him hug you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder as he presses a light kiss to your shoulder blade. “This okay?”

He always asked. He’d helped you heal so much. At first you could barely stand to be touched, even flinched, but he was always patient with you and never forced anything, ever. Slowly but surely you allowed a touch of the hand here, a short hug there- until your first kiss since that party a decade ago left you reeling and fireworks in your head.

“Very.” You snuggled into him, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“It’s been a year since-”

“Right. The trial.” You felt his voice rumble through his chest like it was your own. “I never would have stopped until you were free.”

“I believe you.”

“I’ll protect you, mi amor,” he whispered into your neck, and you shivered at the love behind the words. 

“Sin descanto para mi caballero,” you whispered back, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

You’d never get used to this.

But you couldn’t wait to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: okay, that wraps up this piece! Thank you so much everyone for your comments, kudos, and likes- it really means a lot.
> 
> In other news, I’m finally slowing down in the ideas department and I’d love to try my hand at taking requests. You can submit them to dearlazerbunny.tumblr.com if you feel so inclined, and the list of fandoms I write for is on there as well. 
> 
> Cheers, lovelies! : )


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